#idk if i can put into words how much i love this

[sleepincrow]

contains: toxic behaviour, toxic!reader this was itching my brain, idk what to tell you. i like having morally ambigious reader... or idk, is it too tame? i have no idea where the line meets and ends when it comes to dark shit cus i usually stay in the other side of the line. whenever i think of dark stuff its in a comedic-ish light and everything turns fluffy in the end idfk. tell me what else i should add in the warnings 😞

edit: i made it readable, i should really start readproofing.

hear me out..

reader who doesnt do anything when their boyfriend is mean. like theyre just generally pissed off and huffing at you when youre trying to greet them with open arms and a warm smile when they come home.

reader who doesnt confront them about their horrible behavior and how it affected them. no, just stay silent, take in whatever your boyfriend had to say or do and leave him be.

ohooooh, you mightve done nothing but youre going to give them something much worse than a silent treatment.

youre not a doormat. youre not a crybaby.

i want reader to be absolutely menacing. if that man doesnt come back crawling, apologizing to you, youre gonna make him.

do you understand me? the anger, the absolute disgust that bubbles in your stomach, that claws its way up your chest like an animal looking for a fresh breath of air before it starts to hunt.

youre silent all of the sudden, giving him the driest texts known to man, leaving him on seen with texts that dont technically need a reply instead of dragging the conversation longer with a picture of a cat you saw on your way home. youre picking up more work than usual, unable to cut some time, telling him youve got things to do—things more important than having to watch some tv with him, be in bed with him.

youre clever. you know your schedule, and you know his. rearrange everything, make sure to make as much commotion in your life that doesnt include him, so when he confronts you, youre technically telling the truth when you say youre busy.

because why bother coming home early, greeting him, surprising him with dinner and a loving kiss?

then watch it all go down. technically, youre not doing anything wrong, youve got your plate full with a screenshot of your planned calendar to pair with it as sweet, sweet evidence.

youre watching him slightly deteriorate. watch him panic. he'll buy you flowers, in which you put in a vase but never take care of like before. he'll buy you jewelry you wont wear because "theyre beautiful but i like the old ones too! ill wear them on a special occassion" that wont ever come.

the frustrated, panicked look on his face is priceless. it feels so good. he cant even be mad because youre not even cheating! you have all the alibis, all the witnesses. youre perfectly happy and sweet as before! just.. not as responsive, not as present. but thats not your fault, thats your job's!

if he pays for you, slowly start paying your half of everything. shows that you are stable and everything would be perfectly fine if he went up in left. in the end, thats why he got angry with you in the first place, right? he's so okay with being angry, not telling you his problems, that he can keep it to himself, right?

he doesnt need your lap to lay his head on, not your food that you prepare for him when he comes home, not the soft touches you leave on his overworked skin and definitely not the words that you coo at him everyday before he pissed you off.

make him know what the once delicious thought of takeout tastes like once he's left to fend for himself while you go out for overtime at work! trust me, its gonna taste a hell of a lot more bland, a lot more dull. depressing, really.

dont even get me STARTED on sex. (i wont, not now)

this is all justifiable, right? after all, this is how you communicate your feelings right? this is how you can show him how you felt when he showed you a cold shoulder at your warm embrace! let him have the full experience when you felt pathetic, miserable, useless.

plus, youre not wrong, arent you? you can leave whenever you want! who is he to tell you that you cant leave? as if he owns you—is that what he thinks? is that what he thinks of you? just a not-so-significant other that he can come home to whenever he wants and project his feelings unto?

no, no youre not. youre not gonna take that bullshit. he can roll it up, pack it in a bag and beat it if thats what he's thinking. no, both of you are holding an end of a rope in this relationship. a big, thick rope which you can cut off with that large ass scissor you both have.

this is just you telling him, reminding him that you can cut it whenever you like! its not threatening, not manipulation, straight truth! you CAN leave any relationship you like! its his problem if he doesnt like it, right?

your poor little boyfriend has to get his act together! start thinking straight! unless he wants to deal with your unyielding, harsh wrath for the rest of his soon-to-be miserable life.

after all, he made the first threat to your relationship, right? its just a reminder!

[alygator77]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five of your other fave writers. Spread the self-love! 💕💕💕💕❤️

hi rem ahhh tysm bb you are so sweet 🥹🤧 ily and your writing sm 💕

motherhood and matrimony (ceo! satoru x single mom secretary! reader)

this series is literally my baby. its what essentially helped me grow a following here and the story is just near and dear to my heart. i've put so many pieces of myself into this story and have poured my heart and literal tears into the writing 😭

2. masked affairs—sold to desire (dom! rich satoru x f!reader - inspired by 50 shades of grey)

so this oneshot is special to me in a lot of ways. it was the first story i collaborated with my bestie @strychnynegirl on—it was a vision she trusted me with, so i took it and ran with it! i'm really proud of what i accomplished in this oneshot too bc i struggle with the ability to stfu 💀 everything i write is long, lol. plus, i'm really happy with the tension and smut here 🤭

3. vows of duty (arranged clanhead! satoru x f!reader)

this story is still very new, but i'm really proud of what i've done with it. i'm going entirely out of my comfort zone with this fic, which is both exciting and nerve wracking! like seriously, ya'll wouldn't believe how much i was stressing over this fic 😅 @/srychnynegirl and @madamechrissy can attest to it. but they helped me SO much in getting out of my head. i love them 💕💕

4. supermodel! satoru x fem reader - preview

words cannot describe how down bad i am for this man, lol. i love me a needy obsessed man 🙂‍↕️ i worked real hard on this little drabble for his teaser, and i'm excited for his full fic. this is some of my fav smut i've written, and i'm honestly so obsessed with satoru masturbating. idk, i'm feral for him 😩

5. cursed by color—satoru’s new look (girl dad satoru x f!reader)

one of my pure fluff fics. i just love satoru as a girl dad. this fic is based on my real life too bc my husband sits there and lets my daughter do his nails and hair and UGH. it's just so wholesome. this also healed me bc i wrote this after the end of jjk, so it's my delulu fantasy of how satoru SHOULD be living out his life rn.

tysm my love for this ask!! muah!! 😘

-aly

[sourcherrybites]

Legally Binding affairs; vol I

.☘︎ ݁˖ Character: Jason Todd x DA! Reader

.☘︎ ݁˖ Disclaimers: Idk, swearing? Reader has a lot of mean thoughts and some misogynistic beliefs. Guns. OH, and reader is a smoker.

.☘︎ ݁˖ a/n: Tell me if you'd like to be in a taglist or something

.☘︎ ݁˖ Word count: 1,883

➜ Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2

Masterlist

There had been a few minutes of silence between you two, even after Jason put back his gun, his jaw was clenched so hard you thought he'd break a tooth and you had to explain a lot.

First of all, how did you keep tabs on them, That one was easy. You had informants in various criminal rings, primarily out of favours you had collected over your journey on sex crimes. You cared about your victims, and they returned with some dirt. One of the first dancers you met had told you once, "Men spill all their secrets after doing it," so all your main sources were pillow talks, and women loved complaining about said talks.

You know, it's kind of funny when you think about it. Why did you have tabs on them in the first place? It's simple, really— you just never trusted those billionaires! So, you started keeping an eye on the Wayne family and, honestly, every other wealthy family in Gotham, too. It's like a little hobby, don't you think? Just keeping tabs on the elite while sipping coffee and taking down their secret source of income in the courthouse, watching them struggle and squirm behind those practised smiles and ironed suits when they are forced to interact with you in social settings.

"So, what do you plan on doing with this information?" Jason sighed finally, biting the inner wall of his cheek. He had been doing that for quite a while now, chewing on his cheek or lip to the point it bled. "You plan on... what, blackmailing the man?" That made you chuckle, but you answered truthfully with the most relaxed grin you were capable of producing. "Honestly, I have no idea what to do." That takes him aback. You did the impossible and uncovered the most well-kept secret in modern times, and you didn’t plan to do anything? He finds himself on the verge of asking before you speak again. "I thought it'd be harder if we're being honest. I mean, it's The Batman, you know?" Jason rubbed his temples and sighed. "Guess so..."

"You're not gonna tell anyone, right?" He inquires. "What do you offer?" You rest your elbow on the back of the couch and tilt your head. "What do I- Do you even know who you're talking to?" He exclaims, baffled that someone who looks like the epitome of righteousness would suggest that. "The guy who panicked so much he broke into my home? I'm asking you what do you offer." You push again with the same relaxed grin. You are pushing his buttons, and he knows it, you know it— so you ask.

"Wanna work with me?"

"Fuck You!"

You just laugh, it's so funny how he fumbles with his words and tries to act all tough, but for him it's not, it's not funny the way your eyes sparkle like that, filled with mischief, or how your laugh makes him want to shut you up, or how you handle him like a plaything, did you casually forget he is The Red Hood? The crime lord who broke into your apartment armed? Like, with a gun? He has a freaking gun within arm's reach!

"I don't tell anyone, and you help me bring down a few bad guys, competition if you may. It sounds pretty reasonable to me," you insist, and each word you spew sounds more insane to him. "So either I join you or you expose me and my family." His voice sounded restrained, like he was holding back from just breaking your nose, "I have some friends in the US attorney's office; maybe I can take care of a certain clown and company... but I'd need your help."

Now that catches his attention, so you take a deep breath, trying to rein in your frustration. "Look, The Joker has a whole set of godfairies backing him up. Too many people are either too scared to act or are making money off his chaos. Think about it— construction companies, security firms. They wouldn’t hesitate to pay off a judge or two to keep him locked up in Arkham just long enough for him to make his next escape, even help monetarily by giving a little incentive to the city not to invest in better security. It's all business, you know? A very lucrative one." You run your hands through your hair, feeling the tension loosen up as you continue, for once you can rant and be heard. "And don’t even get me started on the state. They don't even want to do anything because they see it as a waste of resources, and since he doesn't cross state lines most the time, the federal government ain't much more helpful."

"You want to get him the death penalty." He nods. "Though I don't like to trust the government with the power of killing civilians, but the man's gotta go, end of story." You shrug, and he presses his lips together. "We need a way to communicate without being caught." He murmurs, making you grin and raise four fingers. "Pre-paid phones, fake names, scheduled meetings and no secrets." He thinks about it for a few seconds and speaks, "I pay for the phones, in cash, the meetings are at my safehouse..." and that's when he smiles, "And I pick your name, deal?" he offers his hand. "Deal."

"How's your mornin', Golum?" He chuckles through the phone, the name rolling off his tongue with amusement. Two days after your last conversation, you received a cheap phone with an expensive-looking case through the mail with only one contact registered: 'Pookie', with an eye-catching pink heart next to it. You, of course, demanded an explanation, to which he said, "It'd be less suspicious that you called a boyfriend rather than some deep, poetic nickname," but Pookie? Pookie? It was completely humiliating and absolutely out of character for you, and it was petty, a little payback for all those stressful nights you had made him have. And he also called you Golum because why tf not, your fault for having an entire shelf dedicated to Lord of the Rings and a bigass Gollum figurine.

"It's fine, Pookie." You replied, faking a lovey-dovey voice as you walked out the back of the courtroom's office, a dark building that looked like it was closer to falling apart than being stood up, with chirping pillars, the main door that hadn't been painted probably since the building was first inaugurated and filled with obscenities graffitied on the walls.

You bit the inside of your cheek and groaned, rubbing your forehead in frustration. "Any reason for you to call me at this hour?" You asked, listening to his rough chuckle on the other side. "Or did you just miss my voice, Pooks?" Jason laughed even harder, a deep, dark sound that should be bothering you more, before taking a few shaky breaths and answering, "Look, we need to talk again—in person—to set up some things, alright?" You leaned against the wall, pinching the bridge of your nose, trying to suppress the irritation bubbling up your chest. "When?" He thinks about it, you can hear the soft hum of his voice through the line, pissing you off. "Friday? Say you gotta meet 'Pooks.'" You bit out a terse "Fine" before hanging up and shoving your phone into your pocket, feeling more bothered than ever.

You had a few seconds of silence, which you took advantage of by pulling out a cigarette and lighting up as you tapped your boot against the broken, dark concrete, trying to drown out the low hum of the place. "Uhm, Judge McGregor is looking for you..." The voice of one of the clerks called out behind you. Eve was her name, right? Not like it mattered to you either way. A short, sickly-looking young woman, barely reaching your shoulder, and probably not even 30. Her short, perfectly defined blond locks and bright, sapphire blue irises felt jarringly out of place in this grim, professional setting. You couldn't help but not like her; it was cringe-worthy how she seemed to play into that fragile persona, trying to provoke sympathy from the big, lumbering men of the courthouse. Those men, who looked like they had walked out of a low-budget crime drama, were somehow both repulsive and pathetic, and she seemed to bask in the attention by being so defenceless and frail.

It made your skin crawl.

You hated people like that, always the victim who couldn't do anything wrong and always had something or someone against them. But she was just a clerk; you were the freaking DA of the violent crimes bureau, and you were kind to her; better not get enemies; she may cause you trouble if you don't. "Sure, sweetie. I'll be there in a minute," you smiled kindly, dropping your cigarette on the ground, and you snuffed out the cigarette with your foot.

Friday night came sooner than later, and you soon found yourself in front of a building that looked almost as frail as your coworker, dressed in the plainest looking clothes you had in your closet: a black hoodie and loose jeans. You approached the structure with slow steps.

"Hey there, Gollum? I thought you wouldn't show up." His hands were wrapped around the barrel of one of his rifles, moving rhythmically as he cleaned it with a small cloth. "Remind me again why you picked that name?" you murmured, pushing back the hat of the hoodie. "You're... short... and annoying, and you like Lord of the Rings." he shrugged. "I would've preferred if you called me Frodo or Sam. I eat as much as a hobbit. And of course I'm short compared to you; you're a freaking mountain!" Jason whistled, his eyebrows raising with amusement as he leaned back in his chair. "No need to hold back; you can curse all you want in this humble home of mine. "Can you close your fucking legs, please?" you smiled

He set the gun aside, pointing at one of the chairs nearby as he stood up and walked towards what you assumed was the kitchen. You hesitated, glancing at the assault rifle before reluctantly sitting on the chair. Jason came back a few minutes later with two cups of coffee, steam flowing and curling like a Van Gogh painting, his eyes studying your reaction before settling into the opposite chair with a calculated calmness

"So?" you questioned, sniffing the coffee. You weren't stupid; only god knew what he could've gotten into your drink. "Where are you from?" You blinked twice, completely taken aback by his question. "You know everything about me, and I don't know anything boutcha, so do tell." He leaned over with a smirk. "If we're to be allies, let's stop being strangers, hm?" he tilted his head, and the soft green of his eyes filled with honesty, though a spark of suspicion remained, but you... Did you lose anything by trying?

"Okay..."

The next evening, you got a box of malboros and black coffee on your doorstep.

©sourcherrybites 2025

[bootycallin]

uhhhh i saw something and i. cw: fingering and that’s it. basically backshots but no dick or strap just her fingers. cursing?? idk. not proofread my clitoris did the thinking and i just put it on a spreadsheet.

a/n: ughhh i know that im supposed to write for jinx but i cant stop thinking abt this mf. wasian masc save me

just thinking about riding mizu’s fingers. so fucking long, slender, but reaching the deepest places inside you with such ease. it’s easy for her to slam her fingers in, width accommodating comfortably inside you while her fingertips nearly kiss your cervix.

mizu never did understand your fixation for her hands. frankly, you didn’t either. they’re just hands—something she thought was quite unattractive in herself, actually. scarred and calloused from years of sword fighting and working with metals, she believed you hated the rough texture on the pads of her palm, the slightly raspy feeling of her fingertips from so many years or wielding a katana, eating at the layers of skin.

though, you don’t even have to tell her—she knows you love her fingers. maybe even more than her strap no matter how big and how deep she reaches. her self-confidence has gone up significantly because of you, because of moments like this. and quickly, her favorite thing has become watching you bounce back against her hand as she fingers you.

blue eyes watch with laser-focus, fixated on the back of your head. you can practically hear her gears churning, every calculated curl of her fingers inside your heat, seeking to make you cry out and send your eyes rolling to the back of your head. like a dumb slut, and nothing else. her dumb slut.

you can feel her so deep. her fingers are longer than yours are, by a long shot—not even you can masturbate and make yourself feel this good. the way the pads of her fingers press into that little spongy spot you always seem to miss on yourself, forcing the slightest pressure on your bladder, whimpers snd cries filled from your throat like taking candy from a baby. slamming in restlessly, her hands don’t tire, skillful from hears of her craft like she’d studied exactly this.

in fact, she has. she has studied you. and she knows what makes you tick—read; cum.

“does that feel good?” it’s a rhetorical question from the woman behind you. you know she knows, and she knows you know she knows. she’s not expecting an answer, just the same strangled noise signaling your pleasure.

“mizu,” you moan, jaw hanging slack from the constant noise of ‘ah, aah’ and begging and whatever else comes from you, noises completely involuntary. she’s not even doing a lot of work. your hips move on their on as she just curls them in and out, thrusting cloyingly gently into you into you. in return, you thrust back against her, back arched similarly to a cat’s, seeking more of the stimulation she provided.

“easy,” she mutters. she can feel you getting desperate, clenching together against her fingers with each trust, each press into your g-spot. your shoulders are trembling, head hanging low, moans growing more and more whiny by the second. your bouncing on her fingers just gets more desperate, and she barely even does anything. just lets you ride her fingers like a toy.

“easy. there you go,” her free hand is on your waist, gently steadying you. she doesn’t try to control your movements or anything, as much as she aches to prolong your orgasm just to see you cry and beg. she’s mean, but she’s not cruel. and she can be nice.

“good. so good, that’s it,” praised mizu, tenderly, thumb brushing patterns against the soft flesh of your back. she was leaning forward so she almost hugged you from behind, peppering kissed down your spine between your shoulder blades.

“that’s it. good girl. go on.”

the words that spilled from her lips only urged you to continue, quicker, though your legs quivered and your lungs burned from panting. you were almost there, you could feel it, the edge of the cliff just waiting for you to fall off. but, the journey to said edge just grows more and more frustrating and overwhelming. you can feel it, but your body is giving out.

“no, no— please, shit, mizu—“ you begged.

“language.” a short smack sounds in the (mostly) quiet room, resulted from her softly spanking your ass at your words. it just makes you cry louder. big baby, she thinks. not that she’s complaining. it’s cute, seeing you get so desperate.

“don’t tell me you’re getting tired,” teasingly sweet, nearly condescending. the amusement’s tangible in her voice that reverberates down your spine and you know where else too.

“you haven’t even cum yet baby,” punctuated by a particularly mean curl of her fingers, your back arched, fingers desperately clawing at the bedsheets to try and stabilize yourself. desperately chasing the high that vets closer and closer, knot in your stomach tightening exponentially—but your thighs are trembling, body shaking.

"please, mizu!" you cried. you couldn't anymore— overstimulated yet not enough to cum, tired and dumb and sensitive. you can practically feel the smile on her lips as she hums, kissing the back of your neck.

"what is it, baby?" the honeyed voice behind you asks, "you need some help, hm?"

"yes!"

your thighs give out under you before you can even finish. you're barely holding yourself up. hot tears running down your red cheeks, screwed shut while you clench uselessly around her.

"please, please, please— so close, please, mizu, fuck me, please—"

and, oh, how can she deny such a sweet thing?

mizu's calloused palm finds itself between your shoulder blades, pushing you down into the bed. she sits up on her haunces right behind you, hand in the same position her strap would be—as if she needed that. no warning, but precedented; because why wouldn't she? she slams her fingers into your cunt, barely even giving you time to adjust as she takes a relentless pace, fingertips pushing into your cervix with each thrust. she relishes in your needy moans and cries, the way you bury your face into the bed to try and quiet yourself. your poor, abused cunt clamping tightly around her digits, warm walls saturated with the evidence of the incoming wave of pleasure right about to hit.

"good girl," she praised, saccharine words bringing you closer and closer and closer to your orgasm. good girl. good girl. that's it, that's it, just let go for me, baby. that's it. good—

it's just one of those nights.

[urlocalmultigroupfan]

ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ✦✩ (이용복)

pairing: lee felix x bsf!reader

summary: based off of follow you by imagine dragons

tags/warnings: mentions of another idol (heeseung) non!idol situation, felix is reader's best friend, he doesn't tell her how he feels, probably more, im so tired i most likely missed smth

a/n: second day in a row that i haven't slept, im sleep deprived atp....i js want to finish this up and get it ready <3 also, im thinking of making oneshots based off of u and also ex??? idk its kinda angstyyy....

also credits to @hyuneskkami for dividers!!

masterlist!

The weight of the day bears down on you, and it feels like your chest is too tight to breathe. Another fight with Heeseung. Another argument that made you feel small and unimportant. The love that was once vibrant has faded into something colder, something that no longer feels like home. No matter how many times you try, he never seems to listen. You find yourself asking, Why does it feel like I’m speaking a different language? It’s as though the things that once connected you two now only serve to push you further apart.

Your phone buzzes, and you don’t even need to look at it to know it’s Heeseung. You don’t have the energy to read his message. All it ever is is an empty apology, a quick fix to shut you up, to put a bandage on a wound that’s deeper than words could heal. “Sorry” it says. “I don’t know what’s wrong.” And it hurts, more than anything, that he’s never honest with you. That he never really tries.

You try not to let it overwhelm you.

Instead, you unlock your phone and scroll, searching for someone you can rely on. Felix.

You’ve never told him about your issues with Heeseung, not in full. You’ve never wanted to burden him with it. But Felix has always known when something was wrong. You’re not sure how he does it, but he always knows. His message pops up immediately: “Hey, you okay?”

It’s a simple text, but you know what it means. He cares.

“Yeah. Just tired.”

You close your eyes for a moment, wondering if that’s enough of an answer. It isn’t. But it’ll have to do. Felix knows when you’re lying. So you wait. Seconds later, your phone buzzes again.

“Come outside. I’m in the park.”

You blink, surprised. It’s late, but you know Felix well enough to understand that when he’s insistent, you don’t argue. You grab your jacket and head out the door. Fresh air, a walk in the park—maybe it’s exactly what you need to clear your mind, even if just for a little while.

The park feels quiet and peaceful, with the sound of distant traffic blending with the soft rustling of the trees. You can already see him in the distance, leaning casually against a tree. His blonde hair glows under the streetlight, and his familiar smile lights up his face as soon as he spots you.

“Hey,” Felix greets you, his voice warm. “You look like you could use some fresh air.”

You force a smile, but it’s weak. “You could say that.”

Felix studies you for a moment, his gaze intense but gentle, as if he’s reading you in a way that others can’t. “Come sit,” he says, patting the spot next to him on the park bench. “Tell me what’s going on.”

You hesitate for a moment before sitting next to him. The bench is cold, the metal biting into your legs, but his presence is like a soft, warm blanket. Felix always knew how to make you feel safe, how to calm the storm in your mind.

“You’ve always been there for me, Felix,” you start, your voice quiet, almost hesitant. “But I don’t know what to do anymore. It’s Heeseung. Every time we try to talk, it feels like I’m speaking a different language. He’s so distant, and I don’t know if I’m asking too much, or if he just doesn’t care anymore.”

Felix’s eyes soften, and you can tell that hearing this hurts him too. “You’re not asking for too much,” he says, his voice calm but firm. “You deserve someone who listens to you. Someone who sees you, who values you.”

You blink, your throat tightening at his words. Felix always had a way of making you feel like you were worth something, like you were more than just the sum of your worries. “But… I don’t know if I can fix it anymore. I don’t know if I even want to. But it’s so hard to let go.”

You feel the tears starting to well up again, but you swallow hard, fighting to keep them at bay. Felix doesn’t pressure you. He simply reaches out and brushes his hand against yours. It’s gentle, comforting, like a silent promise.

“You don’t have to let go all at once,” he says softly. “One step at a time. And you’re not alone. I’m here for you. Always.”

The sincerity in his voice cracks something inside you. Before you can stop yourself, you lean your head on his shoulder. His warmth soothes the tension in your body, and you finally let the tears fall, quiet sobs racking through you.

Felix doesn’t say a word. He just holds you, his arm gently around your shoulders. He doesn’t ask questions or try to fix everything. He just lets you be.

Felix watches you closely, his heart aching as you struggle with the weight of your emotions. He’s known you for so long—long enough to see the cracks in your smile, to hear the quiet pain in your voice when you pretend to be okay. He hates seeing you like this, especially when he knows it’s because of someone who doesn’t see you the way you deserve.

But it’s more than that, too. Felix has always been there for you, always done his best to support you. And even though he’s never said it, he’s always cared for you… more than just a friend.

There’s a part of him that wishes he could be the one to fix everything. He wishes he could be the one to hold you close, to make you feel safe in a way that Heeseung bastard never could.

“I’d follow you no matter what,” he thinks, his mind repeating the words from the song that had been stuck in his head all night. It’s a promise he’s always made, silently, in his heart. He would follow you through anything, even if it meant staying in the background, supporting you from the sidelines.

But right now, all he can do is be the friend you need. And if that’s enough, then he’ll take it.

Eventually, your tears begin to subside, and you pull away, sniffling and wiping your face. Felix looks at you, his gaze softer than you’ve ever seen it. His hand is still on yours, and you can feel his warmth, his steady presence.

“You deserve to be happy,” he says quietly, the sincerity in his voice almost too much to bear. “You don’t have to carry all of this by yourself.”

You nod, your chest feeling a little lighter. “I just don’t know what to do. I’ve been trying so hard to make it work with Heeseung, but…”

Felix squeezes your hand. “You don’t have to fix everything right now. It’s okay to take a step back and just breathe. And if you ever need to talk or need someone to listen… I’m always here.”

You look up at him then, really look at him. His eyes are filled with something deeper than just friendship, but he’s hiding it, like always. Felix is always there, always putting you first, always making sure you’re okay. You realize, in that moment, that he’s been more than just a friend to you for a long time. He’s been the one constant, the one person who always has your back.

And maybe, just maybe, that’s enough for now.

You smile at him, the first real smile you’ve had in days. “Thanks, Felix. You’re… you’re the best.”

He smiles back at you, a little softer this time, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than usual. "I’ll follow you, no matter what. You know that, right?"

You nod, the weight in your chest finally starting to lift. “I know.”

As you stand up to leave, you feel lighter, like maybe you don’t have to carry the burden of everything on your own anymore. Felix will follow you, wherever you go, and for now, that’s enough.

hope yall enjoyed <3

todays playlist....

truman by han and felix, cinema by lee know and seungmin, giant (korean ver) by stray kids, burnin tires by changbin and i.n, escape by bangchan and hyunjin, sweet dreams by j-hope ft. miguel, my pace stray kids, airplane by stray kids, blueprint by stray kids, mixtape: gone days by stray kids, moonlight sunrise by twice, off the record by ive, do not touch by misamo, my friend ranting while we played roblox for a bit, wow by 3racha, 3racha (song), love me back by fromis_9, tiktok by 3racha, u by stray kids ft. tablo, case 143 by stray kids, goodness gracious by bbno$ and yung gravy, night dancer by imase, as we are by seungmin, gods menu by stray kids, fever by enhypen, sheesh by babymonster, ggum by yeonjun, matsuri by fujii kaze, only by leehi, real man by beabadoobee, from the start by laufey, fly me to the moon by frank sinatra, can't take my eyes off you by boys town gang, bounce back by stray kids, thank u by ive (my gf likes it so i do too) like him by tyler, the creator

taglist: @rockstarkkami @sirloncelot-of-bananas @jisunggy

taglist is open! please comment if you would like to be added <3

[serevarin]

Please don't put your mental health at risk over some post on here, your art is good and very sweet either way and there's no need for you to force yourself to play the game if it's gonna make you feel bad. Watching playthroughs is fine too, the content of their relationship isn't gonna change anyway. Plus writing fanfic and drawing fanart is a hobby, you should do it in a way that's fun and enjoyable for YOU, it doesn't matter what others think it's best

holy shit holy shit thank u thank u kind anon!! so i've been crying a lil bit (in a good and appreciating and thankful way) after reading previous comments and your words as well. even though i'm an artist, not a ficwriter, i still relate to the take "fanfiction is funfiction" in a way that an author's pleasure and fun and positive emotions should be a top priority, not the audience's (i hope u get me cause idk how to put it in english :"D).

because i've seen really deprecating posts and comments about some categories of ficwriters and even artists. i think it would be really kinder to the community and to our content creators to talk about improving one's fanfiction quality in a suggesting way, not.. not in a deprecating and obliging and consumer-ish way, if u know what i mean? because fanfiction isn't a commercial activity and not a job, in most cases. it's not like ficwriters are obliged to their audience, i believe. and it's not like authors have to avoid things that are not really touched upon in the source material, such as religious guilt and etc. i think it's just wonderful to write about something (even ooc, even headcanon-ish, even trope-ish) because it's beautiful or relatable or because it's causing some cool emotions inside you. and because you, as an author, have fun. and because you love what you're doing, no matter what others say.

if i were a ficwriter, i would probably absolutely love to write about religious guilt in hansry because it relates to me SO much especially in my country and makes me feel something. something beautiful and something close to my heart. it's not historically accurate, yeah, but i would love to share my point of view on hansry with the world. so can you.

*ofc, it would be cool if hansry readers could be more suggestive and less deprecating, whereas ficwriters could also be gentle and put tags accordingly (and warn about potential ooc and religious guilt or top/bottom dynamic and etc) - so that kindness would be a two-way street, so to say!

i just really want to defend those ficwriters (and even artists!!! my fellows my guys!!) that fell under this wave of hate. please be free and enjoy what you love.

[burningcheese-merchant]

youll be fine merchant, after all i follow you because i like you saying things, you make things interesting in a way, im not sure how to describe it, but what i do want to say is that you dont need to feel that way, u doing fine and i hope you continue doing fine

I'm grateful for your kind words. I really am. I'm touched you took the time to say something to me. But... Idk.

I'm feeling very raw today. I want to be totally real just once. Just this one time. No sarcasm or joking around like I usually do. Be my therapist/blank wall to whom I address my words of woe for a minute. Then we can all go back to normal after that

I've been having a major crisis of self-confidence lately. Been feeling stupid. Useless. Good for nothing. Probably just the Big Sad talking but that guy hasn't shut up for an awfully long time and he's harder to tune out on some days

Writing was always an escape for me. A form of catharsis. I'm actually quite terrible at speaking to people irl. I'm very shy and awkward. Social anxiety on steroids. I always expressed myself better in writing as opposed to spoken words. Idk it just feels a lot less stifling to me. I feel more free. Less judged. More in control of my thoughts. If that makes any sense.

Bit the bullet and started posting fics on AO3 just to indulge myself. Never really expected to get any attention. There was a ship I liked and there weren't really any fics for it, so I became the change I wished to see in the world. That was all it was. You want something done right, do it your damn self.

Wrote more. Different things with different characters and different ideas. Gained a lot more traction. Caught another bullet in my teeth and made this blog. People seem to like my ideas for some reason. I start to think "hey. Maybe I really am a good writer."

Then I took a few story-shaped sledgehammers to the skull and remembered that no, I'm not. Lol.

Comparison is the thief of joy. I know that. Nobody needs to remind me. But it's easier said than practiced. Read biscuitlabyrinth's stuff and felt like a fraud. Read Jambound and felt like a skyscraper-sized fraud. It's hard not to compare yourself to others when the "others" are practically hailed as heroes by the fandom. When there are mountains upon mountains of fanart happily illustrating their work. When their story has the most hits and the most kudos and the most comments and the most bookmarks in the entire Cookie Run tag on AO3, and only receives more every passing day. When there are people who want to bind the fic and make it an actual, physical book, because they love it so much. No one has ever said or done any of that for me or my stuff. Never got even a fraction of that love or attention. Not even close. And I never, ever will.

Yeah yeah. Two cakes. Everyone has said that to me. But if you all had to choose. If you could only eat one cake while the other one went straight to the trash. You wouldn't pick mine, would you? You'd pick the other one. You'd pick Jambound. Everyone would. Even my friends on here would. Why bother wasting time and ingredients baking the thing if you know that's how it's going to be? What's the point?

I know I'm not owed success. Nobody is. It's earned. It just... hurts, I guess. It hurts to feel compelled to doubt yourself so strongly after finally allowing yourself to believe you've done a good job at something for once in your life. To feel like even when I try, even when I put my best foot forward, it's not good enough. Nobody actually cares. No one will ever think of you like they think of those other people and their work. No one will think of you at all. You're just a sad little wannabe loser, wallowing in their shadows.

I don't blame those people for these feelings. I don't blame anyone except myself. To think or do otherwise would be childish. No one is responsible for making me feel inferior/inadequate besides me. I accept that these thought and feelings are foolish. Whiny. Unfair. No one should pay them any mind. I'll sort through them on my own.

It's stupid, all of this. Oh no, some person's fanfiction is more popular than yours. Boo hoo. It's the end of the world. Stupid. It's all stupid. And yet, the feelings persist. It sucks. I don't want to feel this way. I'd rather just forget about it all and go back to being the loser who was content just writing for herself and nobody else, really. I don't look good in green, that's for sure lol. But it's hard. It's hard to let go of something that's got its jaws clenched around your neck so tight. Waiting for you to stop fighting and bleed out before it can finish its meal.

I always thought that writing was the only thing I was ever good at. That I was ever good for. Learned the hard way that that's not true. That my best was never anything but mediocre in reality. It's really no wonder Jambound is as beloved as it is. It's wonderful. Fantastic. It deserves all the praise it gets. I wish I could write half as well as that. But I don't. And now sometimes I wonder if anyone would even notice, even if I did.

I'm not happy writing anymore. Feels like it got snatched from me. The thing I love, that always brought me a measure of peace no matter how depressed I got. Gone. I can't draw worth a damn. I'm not funny. I'm not that smart. I never thought I had anything to give anyone except my writing. Now I understand that I don't have that, either. My cake sucks. No wonder everyone would rather eat theirs.

I'll get over it eventually. I'm stubborn if nothing else at all. I've got stories to tell and finish, even if they'll never mean anything to anyone except myself. Might as well. For my own sake.

There. Said my piece. Poured my miserable little heart out. Let's not talk about this anymore. Go back to enjoying the fancy, professional cake and celebrating the talented baker. Leave me to my cracked countertop covered in stale flour and rotten eggs and bland frosting. I never said anything worth listening to. I'm not sure I ever have.

No more self-pity after this, back to being a silly bozo as usual. Thanks for reading all this gunk if you bothered to for whatever reason. Y'all have a nice day. Better than mine, hopefully

[kaddyssammlung]

This is a response to the anon that posted to “Sleep Token confessions” about Vessel, Sleep, abuse and trauma. (link to the post)

Was a bit too much to put this into the rebloggs so I made a post.

I continue under the cut. TW: abuse

I guess I will never fully understand this until Vessel explains it. There are a few things that maybe don't make sense or fans just interpret the wrong way or maybe whoever gave that interview did not tell the truth.

What always gets to me is “....with promise of glory and magnificence if Vessel followed him” In other words “do what I tell you and then great things will happen”

In my opinion that's giving up all your power. When you agree to something like that you set yourself up for not so great things. You depend on someone or in that case something (or however you want to refer to Sleep). You give up all your power.

I think this is really weird. I mean saying this in an interview like that "....great things will happen if...."

To me this always gave me a knot in my stomach when I read this and it still does.

Evil things or beings don't present themselves as evil to you. They come in and say “I'm archangel this and that and if you do this and that then something great will happen...”. I talked about those creatures a while back. They do exist in my perception

I think this was a situation that Vessel was in?! I mean with a creature like that?! An entity....something that had bad inentions and Vessel gave up all of his power until he realized what was actually going on.

The sad thing: he did not believe that he had enough power to become a successful musician.

And also he set himself up for abuse. And you only do this when you are used to it. It's like jumping into a relationship with someone who is really bad for you.

I've been there...many times.

I did not recognize abuse as such (neither me being the one doing it nor the one receiving it....I love BPD so damn much...the things....sometimes I....whatever)

And fans romanticizing over all of this...well they either don't get the lyrics or see them in a different way or they are survivors of abuse themselves and think by romanticizing abuse they gain power over the situation. So....

idk...I feel for them. All of them...I get it. I get both sides of abuse...I have this “I do anything...I make you stay...I swear I make you stay. Please don't leave me....I never find someone better then you. I'm nothing without you. You can hurt me as much as you like....to me you are still perfect” in me (=BPD)...or had it in me.

I really understand but also I don't think it's okay to romanticize abuse.

I'm very aware of how awful I used to behave a few years back.....I've been single for the past 10 years. I don't want to do be awful to anyone ever again until I fully faced myself and my demons.

All of this is just my opinion. We all don't know what really happened.

[lovethroughdelusions]

Hi i loved your tags about your whale familiar so much that i doodled this on my notes app. I couldn't remember what a whale looked like, so for some reason i decided to just copy my build-a-bear shark week plush, and you know as i type this I'm thinking maybe i shouldn't have drawn your whale familiar as a whale shark (as interpreted by build-a-bear) but here u go. Also i used your icon to draw u so if your icon is a meme... Whoops

HDIISJEBHUS I love this so much!!!! Thank you thank you thank you thank you ❤️❤️

(and my pfp is me lol it's a few years out dated but still fairly accurate.)

[moonchild-in-blue]

Missing Limbs - Espera, Vessel and the crowd 🥺🩷💙

The girls look so so beautiful here and LISTEN TO THEM. Vessel sobs HARD at the end 🥺💔

[purpurussy]

everything Dan said about labels in BIG was so extremely real and personal to me and people really gloss over a lot of it sometimes I need to talk about it more about it when I'm not exhausted

[erinwantstowrite]

i know jondami is gonna win the poll but i really do hope you don't do it just bc of a poll. i sort of agree with the ppl saying that considering the original age gap it'd be weird? like im all for you ageing jon up but i feel like shipping him on top of that's a bit eh especially considering everything's based on the comics and the original characters are the ages they are. ofc it's up to you and i love the story but it sort of feels weird to me considering their original versions are 11 and 14

to be honest that's really why i didn't want to include jondami in the first place. it felt weird to me in general and i'm not the biggest fan of the supersons ship because of it. but people kept asking and i decided to make the poll to see if there was smth i was missing (not really). I know it's a popular ship but I don't really like it and I think I'm going to stick with the original plan of not having Dami with anyone, even Nika. I like Nika and think they're cute, but if they do have a "thing" in this fic, it's not gonna last

the poll was never a deciding factor for me, it's mostly just to see what everyone is thinking. Jon might even go back to his original age in general. he wasn't aged up for the ship, i just considered it because i wanted Dami to have more friends closer to his age that aren't. like. villains. Cause I think Dami deserves at least one, yknow? but Jon being 11 is actually growing on me + i'm nearly finished reading their comics so far

[deoidesign]

I need to know if I'm delusional and projecting onto random characters or if Adam and/or Steve are neurodivergent

You can project whatever you want on them, and I don't know that it's "canon" so to speak but I write them with neurodivergent intent in mind just based on my own life experiences!

so I'm projecting on them too, but it's up for debate whether that's coming across in the text.

Adam is autistic and Steve has ADHD. To Me.

[toxooz]

I know the answer might be no but still!

Are you ever going to make or add your characters into character ai?

I think it'll be really cool to be able to talk to Ollie, or just talk to the whole gang!!

Also lots of love to your art and comic, I found this comic when I was at my lowest and it really helped me out when I was really sad in depressed! Thank you for making this comic and for doing all of this amazing work that you have put in to your characters and storyline!!!

look 🙏 i do see the possible appeal in that i aint gunna lie one bit and as the creator of these characters the idea of being able to seemingly talk to them sounds pretty cool! BUT i simply cant jump on the AI train to Any extent it just wouldn't sit right with me. I feel like it would unnerve me after a while plus the idea of my OCs being 'off' or having out of character dialogue that's out of my control kinda gives me the willies. It seems like one of those things that are simply too good to be true in a practical sense so any possibility of it happening just goes into uncanny valley like do i wish i could take my ocs out of my brain and talk to them HELL yes ( if i dont get killed first) but that should be an impossible thing to do unless im dreaming or hallucinating or some shit. It's like the AI images ie. i Could just type in a bunch of prompts and shit out like 30000 images of my ocs so that i could look at them but where would the yearning be after that??? The loving sculpting of them in my brain while im trying to capture their essence with my hands into a drawing??? One of the main reasons for my ocs to exist is so that its something for my brain to toy around with and wallow in like a cat in catnip, so the idea of being able to just 'lay everything out' so easily just ruins the whole ' i have mysterious little dudes in my head that i mold around everyday to try and figure them out' aspect if that makes any sense??? PLUS im pretty sure the chat ai basically takes paragraphs from writers so for me to be so abhorrently against ai images yet being on board with chat ai when its ~surprise~ stealing from real writers feels like the most hypocritical ass shit i could do sO long old head 'robots evil' rant short: its a no from me dawg

BUT THAT ASIDE im glad to hear u like wheel bitten!! That means so much to hear and may your life continue to improve and thrive!✨🌟

[impossible-rat-babies]

I’m gonna say like. A few things about the whole da and such stuff. im upset for the writers who have to find new employment and that they can no longer share this world, lore and characters with us in the same capacity. im upset about the corporate choices that lead to this loss, even as i am not surprised by ea making these choices.

am I sad to lose dragon age? not as much as I thought. I do adore dragon age truly—it’s special to me in many ways. but in many ways I don’t connect w it how I used to + as it’s been said, it doesn’t die w the games. there might never be another game, but there will always be writing and art—people who are joyful about this series. they will come and go, love it and hate it, but it’s going to continue to be here

[wikipediagf]

Just watched blue velvet….. so many thoughts in my head